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luís soares

Blog do escritor Luís Soares

Emily Dickinson - The Tint I cannot take

The Tint I cannot take—is best—
The Color too remote
That I could show it in Bazaar—
A Guinea at a sight—

 

The fine—impalpable Array—
That swaggers on the eye
Like Cleopatra’s Company—
Repeated—in the sky—

 

The Moments of Dominion
That happen on the Soul
And leave it with a Discontent
Too exquisite—to tell—

 

The eager look—on Landscapes—
As if they just repressed
Some Secret—that was pushing
Like Chariots—in the Vest—

 

The Pleading of the Summer—
That other Prank—of Snow—
That Cushions Mystery with Tulle,
For fear the Squirrels—know.

 

Their Graspless manners—mock us—
Until the Cheated Eye
Shuts arrogantly—in the Grave—
Another way—to see—

Emily Dickinson - I cannot dance upon my Toes—

I cannot dance upon my Toes—
No Man instructed me—
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,

 

That had I Ballet knowledge—
Would put itself abroad
In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe—
Or lay a Prima, mad,

 

And though I had no Gown of Gauze—
No Ringlet, to my Hair,
Nor hopped to Audiences—like Birds,
One Claw upon the Air,

 

Nor tossed my shape in Eider Balls,
Nor rolled on wheels of snow
Till I was out of sight, in sound,
The House encore me so—

 

Nor any know I know the Art
I mention—easy—Here—
Nor any Placard boast me—
It's full as Opera—

Emily Dickinson - "Why do I love" You, Sir?

"Why do I love" You, Sir?
Because—
The Wind does not require the Grass
To answer—Wherefore when He pass
She cannot keep Her place.

 

Because He knows—and
Do not You—
And We know not—
Enough for Us
The Wisdom it be so—

 

The Lightning—never asked an Eye
Wherefore it shut—when He was by—
Because He knows it cannot speak—
And reasons not contained—
—Of Talk—
There be—preferred by Daintier Folk—

 

The Sunrise—Sire—compelleth Me—
Because He's Sunrise—and I see—
Therefore—Then—
I love Thee—

Emily Dickinson - We Grow Accustomed To The Dark

we grow accustomed to the dark -
when light is put away -
as when the neighbor holds the lamp
to witness her good bye -

 

a moment - we uncertain step
for newness of the night -
then fit our vision to the dark -
and meet the road - erect -

 

and so of larger - darknesses -
those evenings of the brain -
when not a moon disclose a sign -
or star - come out - within -

 

the bravest - grope a little -
and sometimes hit a tree
directly in the forehead -
but as they learn to see -

 

either the darkness alters -
or something in the sight
adjusts itself to midnight -
and life steps almost straight.

Emily Dickinson - I never felt at Home—Below

I never felt at Home—Below—-
And in the Handsome Skies
I shall not feel at Home—I know—

I don't like Paradise—

 

Because it's Sunday—all the time—
And Recess—never comes—
And Eden'll be so lonesome

Bright Wednesday Afternoons—

 

If God could make a visit—
Or ever took a Nap—
So not to see us—but they say
Himself—a Telescope

 

Perennial beholds us—
Myself would run away
From Him—and Holy Ghost—and All—
But there's the "Judgement Day"!